


midnight whisperings

by shutupluke



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, blame Dani, this is a procrastination fic, this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupluke/pseuds/shutupluke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nice one, Cal, well done. What are we meant to share now, idiot? Did you even bring the salt?” And he looks up to glare at his so called, life ruining ‘friend’, but that's not who he sees at all. </p><p>Instead, there’s a super pale blonde haired dude, leaning against the doorframe and smirking bemusedly at him. “You’re not Calum.” Ashton says, dumbly. </p><p>“Congratulations.” The boy offers, raising an eyebrow. </p><p>~</p><p>Based on the prompt 'it's 2am and I'm drunk and I need some salt for my fries and I know you're awake so OPEN THE DOOR'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	midnight whisperings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irwah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irwah/gifts).



> I haven't updated TCOMOT for 92 days but here's an entirely unrelated mashton fic courtesy of Danielle's brilliant, prompt shaped distraction. 
> 
> Title is from LA Devotee by Panic! at the Disco aka my faves.
> 
> Also this hasn't been edited so if it sucks, sorry, that's what writing at 3 in the morning gets you.

It’s two in the morning; Ashton Irwin is drunk, eating bland as fuck chips, and banging determinedly on the front door of his best friend’s apartment. “Calum,” he calls out, elongating the A to be extra annoying. “Calum, it’s Ashton.” Nothing. Silence. He hits harder. “I know you're in there, Cal, please, just open the door and give me the salt.” He stops his incessant pounding because his hand actually kind of hurts now, but after thirty more seconds of silence he starts back up again, this time with a mouth full of unsatisfactory food. “Calum,” he whines, not even ashamed that he sounds like a toddler. “Please, open the door.” Still, nothing. He resorts to bargaining, pressing his face right up close to the little peephole thing beneath the brass number 3. “I’ll share my chips with you if you open the door? Just, please-” 

The door opens abruptly, and in his haste to not get his face broken, Ashton drops his fucking chips. Amazing. Kneeling down to recover as many as he can before the five second rule kicks in, he starts to grumble. “Nice one, Cal, well done. What are we meant to share now, idiot? Did you even bring the salt?” And he looks up to glare at his so called, life ruining ‘friend’, but that's not who he sees at all. 

Instead, there’s a super pale blonde haired dude, leaning against the doorframe and smirking bemusedly at him. “You’re not Calum.” Ashton says, dumbly. 

“Congratulations.” The boy offers, raising an eyebrow. Sarcasm looks good on this stranger, Ashton thinks, as does the black pyjama top he’s wearing, stretched out at the neck so it's kind of falling off of his shoulder and exposing his collarbones. 

Ashton remains hopeful. “Did _you_ bring salt?” 

“I did not. You don't have salt at home?” A reasonable question, honestly. What kind of person has to go to their friend’s flat to borrow salt? Who doesn't have salt? Well, obviously. People like Ashton. 

Ashton coughs, licking his lips nervously. “I’m on a health kick.” 

The boy stares at the chips, his single raised eyebrow letting Ashton know that he’s being judged hardcore. “Right.” Pale boy offers.

Ashton ploughs on, ignoring the pretty boy’s frankly rude input. “Do you want a floor fry? They weren't salty enough to start with and now they're covered in floor, but it’s polite to ask.” 

“I think I’m good, thanks.” Pretty pale boy laughs incredulously. 

Ashton shrugs, scooping up some chips. “Suit yourself; more for me, anyway.” 

“Hey, _hey_ ,” PPB squats beside him, grabbing his hand before he can eat anything. Ashton gasps, and then pouts as he drops the content of his hand/fork. “Maybe we should go inside, yeah? I can get you some food if you're hungry.” PPB stands up and offers him a hand. 

“But my chips,” Ashton protests.

“Trust me, you’ll be thanking me tomorrow.” PPB smiles warmly, and honestly, he's so pretty that Ashton wants to give him anything he asks for. Organs? Sure. A million pounds? Slightly less achievable, but he could probably rob a bank. His first born? Already signed away. Ashton settles for taking the outstretched hand and letting himself be pulled off the floor and away from his snack. 

He stumbles as he gets up so PPB keeps an arm around his shoulder (even as he shuts the door and turns the living room light on), leads him into the flat and deposits him onto the sofa. Then, PPB himself settles into the big armchair, tucking his legs underneath him adorably.

“Hey, if you're not Calum, why are you in his apartment?” Ashton asks suspiciously, grasping the nearest throw pillow as if it stood a real chance to protect him. 

“We hooked up like an hour ago.” PPB offers, and Ashton doesn't really know what to say to that, so he just hopes that his face doesn't give away his odd disappointment and awkwardness. The latter is probably a bit much to hope for, honestly. 

“Oh,” is what he manages to offer, along with an uncomfortable wheezy cough. 

PPB grins and shakes his head. “Nah, I'm messing with you. I’m the roommate…” Ashton draws a blank, though it’s probably not so much him as all of the goddamn jaegerbombs he’d drank at the pub. He’s probably more pissed than he realised. Roommate elaborates. “I’m Michael? He’s probably mentioned me.” 

And well, shit. Okay. Fuck. Ashton shouldn't be as relieved as he is right now. “Oh, yeah, I know who you are! You’re Mr Krabs!” Fuck, he’s definitely more pissed than he thought. 

“Mr Krabs, as in, the SpongeBob character?” Michael yawns and kneads at his eyes tiredly which is kind of so super fucking adorable that Ashton forgets to answer him. Michael frowns. “Dude.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Ashton giggles. “Yeah, as in SpongeBob.” 

“Do you want to maybe explain the cartoon character nickname?” Michael coaxes.

“Because you're such a hermit, and according to him you're crabby in the mornings. Like-” Ashton cuts himself off mid sentence with a yawn. “Like a hermit crab. So, Mr Krabs.” Michael laughs quietly, and Ashton carries on, mumbling, half incoherent with exhaustion. “You know, I don't think you're very crabby. I think you're quite nice. Also, crabs aren't pretty, and you're very pretty. And you're letting me sleep on your couch even when I woke you up for salt- well it wasn't meant to be you, but you were here-” 

Michael cuts him off with a soft smile. “Ashton.”

“Sorry.” Ashton sighs. “I ramble when I'm tired- and when I’m drunk, and right now I'm both.” 

“It’s fine.” Michael reassures him solemnly. “It's cute.” 

A choir of angels start singing harmonies inside Ashton’s head at that- it’s cute, it’s cute, it’s cute- and he can't fight the smile that splits his face despite his best efforts. 

“Oh.” He offers, struck dumb by Michael again. 

Michael gets up so quickly Ashton’s head spins.“So,” he clears his throat, “uh, did you want anything to eat? Or drink- do you want tea? I can make tea. You should probably have some water so you don't wake up hungover.” 

“Water would be great, thank you.” Michael nods and heads over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Fucking _Smart Water_ \- Calum is such a hipster dickhead.

“And I’ll get you a blanket.” Ashton looks at him blankly.

“You’re staying over, Ashton.” Michael says, slowly, like he’s explaining something to a child. “I'm not letting you drive like this, I'm definitely not driving, and a taxi at this time is going to be so expensive.” 

Ashton hadn't even thought of that. He’d just wanted some fucking salt for his shitty, alcohol absorbing chips. “Oh shit, okay. Thank you, I guess.” 

“No, no, it's fine. Don't worry about it.” Michael wanders off, and Ashton uses the time to adjust his pillows and stuff so he’s comfortable. When Michael emerges he's empty handed, save for the water bottle

“So, it turns out we don't have another duvet- and before you ask, believe me when I say you do not want to use Calum’s unwashed one.” 

Ashton nods understandingly. “Oh, that’s fine, I can just sleep like this.” 

Michael sighs long-sufferingly. “Obviously you're not going to sleep like that, don't be ridiculous. You’ll freeze.” 

“Obviously?” Ashton repeats, confusion distorting his facial features.

“Exactly. I have a bed, with a duvet, that you can quite easily share.” Ashton blinks, waits for what Michael just offered to actually register: waits for the inevitable retraction. 

It doesn't come- which means… Michael, insanely attractive and charming Michael, is inviting Ashton into his bed. What the fuck? “Don't be daft, I’m fine.” Ashton protests.

Michael glares at him, water bottle free hand falling to his hip- the picture of sass. “Just shut up and come to fucking bed with me, Ashton.” 

Ashton gets up, hands held up in surrender. “Fine, okay.” He smirks, following Michael to his room. Every one of the numerous times he's been to this flat before, the door has been locked, and now Ashton’s going to see inside. He hopes it's not locked for creepy reasons, like, to hide Michael’s shrine to Chad Kroeger, or something. “You know, maybe Calum was right about the ‘crabby’ thing after all,” he teases.

“Don't make me kick you out into the cold.” Michael warns, opening the door and diving straight back into his bed. Ashton closes the door, and then takes a moment to take in his surroundings. Michael’s got his side lamp switched on- he sleeps on the right side, apparently. Which is good to know. The room’s a bit messy admittedly, but it's entirely devoid of shrines and there's a cozy looking bed with a pretty boy in it, so Ashton is pretty much set.

“Oh come on, don't be mean to the lonely drunk guy. Share your bed with him instead.” Ashton grins, and it's such a genuine gesture that Michael is unwilling to fight it. 

“Fine. Idiot.” 

Ashton begins undressing, and honestly, Michael would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bothered by it. 

His arm muscles- which, by the way, are fucking insane- flex as he pulls his shirt off over his head to reveal a lean, toned chest and tanned skin pulled taut over his abdomen. He kicks off his skinny jeans, and despite being wasted he manages to look Godly and graceful which is not at all fair as even sober Michael struggles to stand still. His quads are drool worthy honestly- thick and muscular and as golden as the rest of him. He's like, not human. It's insane. Michael wants to lick him, although his sweat would probably taste disgusting and alcoholic. 

Ashton giggles and it breaks Michael out of his pervy stupor. “Usually,” he laughs, “I’m not this easy to get into bed. No, actually, that's a lie. I'm easy as fuck.” 

Michael shushes him. “Get in and sleep, okay?” He looks all soft and cuddly, and Ashton isn't cut out to resist that so he obeys, finally climbing into the bed. 

“Okay,” he acquiesces from his place beside Michael. “Goodnight.” He says, and he misses the way Michael bites his lip and smiles because the blonde boy has his back turned. 

“Night, Ashton.” 

“Remind me in the morning... to buy salt,” Ashton murmurs drowsily.

“Shh,” Michael yawns. “Sleep.”

~

Ashton wakes up disoriented and hungover. There’s a bottle of water and some paracetamol on his nightstand, but no sign of the boy who left them out for him. Ashton takes the meds, attempting to dull the ache in his brain, and then heads in search of breakfast food. He wanders, still essentially naked, into the kitchen, and the clock in the oven tells him that it's 4pm- which, shit, he’s slept through an entire day, that's fine. 

He's rooting through the cupboard where he knows Calum keeps the cereal when, speak of the devil: “Ashton?” 

Ashton turns around, Cheerios in hand, and it turns out his best friend is finally home. “Calum!” 

“Why are you naked in my apartment?” Calum frowns, crossing his arms suspiciously. Ashton opens his mouth and Calum narrows his eyes. “Mostly naked.” He amends. “Why are you mostly naked in my apartment? Why are you in my apartment at all?” 

“Why aren't you home at 2 in the morning on a Sunday night?” Ashton counters, distractedly looking for a bowl.

Calum ignores him. “Did you sleep with my roommate?” Ashton stands on his tiptoes to pull down a plastic Spider-Man bowl, which was probably in a cereal box itself at one point. 

“Kind of.” Calum’s eyes widen comically. “We didn't fuck, I just slept in his bed.” Ashton clarifies, moving his meal over to the table.

Calum sits beside him as he pours milk into his bowl of cereal. “Why?” 

“You don't have any spare duvets.” Ashton accuses, mouth full of cereal. Calum swats him upside the head. “Oh. Oh, like why am I here. Funny story, that, actually.”

Calum is howling with laughter by the time Ashton is finished explaining. “Buy some fucking salt, you massive idiot.” 

“I will now, obviously. God.” Ashton says, chastised.

“Where is Michael, anyway?” 

“He's at work. It's 4pm on a Monday, most normal people are in work. Actually, that leads me nicely into another question: why were you out on a Sunday night? Why aren't you in work now?” 

“Oh, well, our boss gave everybody today off, so we all went out last night for celebratory drinks, and I celebrated too hard. Jaegerbombs, man.” He shudders. “Wait, you never told me where you were last night.” 

Calum smirks. “I was getting laid, obviously. I’ll save you the gory details, but you should know that they were fucking gorgeous, fantastic ass, and I came twice in the space of like twenty minutes. Insane.” 

“Eww, no, okay, didn't need any of those details.” Calum laughs as Ashton squirms uncomfortably. “You have an over sharing problem.”

“Says you,” Calum scoffs. “I don't tell people I've just met about their secret nicknames.” 

Ashton harrumphs. “Please, I've done that once.” 

“That you know of.” Calum counters- which, yeah, okay, fair point. 

“You know, next time I want something at two in the morning, I'll ask Michael and not you. He won't give me shit about it.” 

“Yeah he will.” 

Ashton glares. “Less shit. Nicer shit.” 

“A kiss, maybe?” 

“Fuck off.” Ashton whines, unfairly attacked. 

“I can't believe you have a crush on my hermit roommate. This is incredible,” Calum laughs. 

“I can't believe you hid your cute roommate from me!” Ashton pouts. “You're a terrible best friend, you know.” 

“Would a terrible best friend give you his number?” Calum asked, air dropping Michael’s contact information to Ashton’s phone. 

Ashton gasped. “You're a great best friend. The best best friend.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Mention me in your wedding vows.” That, Ashton thought, was a price he’d be willing to pay. 

~

_so, you didn't get your salt last night but maybe next time you can get some sugar;)_

_that was shocking. smh, thought u were smoother than that. also how did u get my number????_

_Calum_

_when exactly is ‘next time’, anyway?_

_tomorrow night, when you take me out to dinner as a thank you for my hospitality_

_well, when you put it like that. I'll see you at 7_

_see you at 7;)_

**Author's Note:**

> yell about mashton with me on tumblr pls @ mashlumtrash


End file.
